The King of Crazy
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Apologies for this being a day late - I keep unintentionally going away on Mark's birthday! XD My annual monologue for Mark Hamill's birthday, narrated by the Clown Prince of Crime himself! Happy belated 64th birthday to the one and only Joker :-)


**The King of Crazy**

In the words of the immortal Mel Brooks: "It's good to be the king."

Mel Brooks ain't dead, is he? Cause that would be awkward after I called him immortal and all. I'll change it to comic genius just in case. Comic genius, just like yours truly.

What am I the king of? Gotham, Arkham, Batsy's world, pick whichever one you want. King of Crazy, King of Chaos, the undisputed King of the World! All of those things and more.

Ego problem? I don't have an ego problem – I revel in my ego! Can't say it's undeserved anyway, can you? Who's Batsy's most dangerous and iconic nemesis? Yeah, I said iconic and I stand by it – I'm on all the T-shirts and magazines and all over the internet – I got action figures! A lotta action figures. Only icons get action figures, y'know.

Anyway, who beat Batsy's little birdie companion to death? Who keeps maiming and killing his Gordon friends? Who's unleashed madness untold onto the streets of Gotham time and time again? Any of those other freaks? No? That's right – me and only me. I rule over everyone, I execute my subjects as necessary, and I do kingly stuff. That makes me the king.

All those other pretenders try, but they really don't even compare to my greatness. They should really stop trying, actually, before I decide they're more annoying than entertaining and do what I do to all annoyances. I could, y'know. Anytime, and they know it too. They're all secretly afraid of me. Most people are, at least the intelligent ones. Are you one of those, Doc?

Smart man. It's good to fear the king. That's what Crane would say, but he's under the mistaken impression that he's some sort of King of Fear, or God, or Lord, or Master or something. The only thing Crane's ever mastered is the secret to getting the crap kicked outta him by everyone he meets. People don't beat up people they fear. Well, except Batsy. But the fight's all he has, that one. He fights _because_ he's afraid of everything.

Don't believe me? You think he's not scared of me, huh? Oh, I know what keeps him up at night, in his little Batcave, hanging upside down from the rafters, peering out from under his cape because he's scared of the monsters in the shadows, the monsters that he created. He's afraid that somehow, someway, he'll fail again, and be too late to save another one of his little pals from dying at my hands. It's my grinning face he sees, laughing over the broken body of his little bird boy, bloodied crowbar in hand. Or maybe he sees me snapping photos of little Barbara Gordon while her blood and spinal fluid drains away into the carpet. Or maybe he sees all the potential future victims of mine, assuming he can't stop me, of course. And he can't stop me, unless he kills me. And if he kills me, he becomes me, so it's all a bit of a mess for his tiny Bat-brain. It'll snap one day, you mark my words. Assuming it hasn't already, of course. I mean, a man who dresses up in a bat costume? Whatever reason he's got, if it ain't Halloween where it's socially acceptable to do that kinda thing, it's just nuts!

Me, I didn't have a choice in the matter. I didn't just wake up one day and decide to dress up like a clown and play homicidal jokes on people. Then I really would be crazy! No, what happened to me was out of my control, which is how I like my life to be, for the most part. Out of my control.

But see, that's the difference between Bats and me. He _chooses_ to dress up like a lunatic. He _chooses_ to wear a bat costume and beat up the mentally ill night after night. Mine ain't a choice – it's just who I am. I'm the Joker, and the Joker's gotta play his homicidal jokes. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, am I right?

Now see, the other freaks will tell you it ain't a choice for them either, but they're mostly wrong. I mean, the Plant Lady chose to let whoever experiment on her by turning her into a plant hybrid. Can't blame anybody but herself for her poor life choices. Crane chose to create his little fear gas, even though he claims he was driven to it. But a lotta people get bullied, and they don't become murdering supercriminals who dress up as scarecrows, do they? So see, it's entirely his choice. The less said about the Hat Guy's choices the better – I mean, the best persona he can come up with is a character from a two-hundred year old kid's book? Grow up and get with the times, you child-loving freak! And Riddler chose to dress in question marks and make up riddles, which says a lot about the kinda guy he is. C'mon, you're crazy, so you have the freedom to do whatever you want, and that's how you choose to spend your time? I think there might be something seriously wrong with him.

Now Harvey's like me - he didn't have a choice. Harvey and I are buddies, which means when I'm playing a prank on him, I won't seriously hurt him, just those closest to him. Like with Batsy. That's what being a good friend means. You gotta have some way of showing people you care.

Yeah, Bats and Harv are probably my only friends, but that's still more than Riddler's got. No, Harley's not a friend – she's a menace. A clinging, suffocating, fun-ruining, sex-obsessed menace. But she's got her good points, sure. Can't think of any right now, but I'm sure they're there.

Well, she's got excellent taste, for one. Harley's one of the few who understands just how incredible I am. In fact, it might just be Harley and me who get that. She loves me as much as I love myself, and it's nice for a guy to have fans, y'know? Especially when the rest of Gotham is a buncha humorless nutjobs who idolize a depressed sociopath in a bat costume and think _I'm_ the scary one. When all I'm trying to do is make people laugh, and spread smiles. Everybody loves a clown, but a bat? Well, they're not to everyone's taste. Kinda ugly and hairy and screechy. Don't tell Bats I called him hairy, but he does sometimes show up looking like he hasn't shaved for a couple days. Do you think he's just lazy, or is the hobo look fashionable these days?

Where was I? Oh yeah, the other freaks. Well, really, who else could possibly compete with me? There's Croc, but he's all brawn and no brain, and you need both to succeed in life. Same with Bane - he's basically just a jock who took too many steroids. Those can have ugly consequences, y'know – I read about them. I'm expecting Bane to start turning into Senorita Banella any day now. Scarface is a good 'un, but he'll never amount to anything as long as he stays attached to that dummy. He lets him control him, not the other way around. Not like me and my dummy, am I right?

Let's see, there's Penguin. He chose that shtick, poor guy, and now he's stuck with it forever. But nobody's actually scared of a penguin, are they? Then there's Freeze, who's about as scary as an ice cube when he's not off on another self-pity-athon over his sick wife. Who else? Clayface. Good actor, not a very good criminal, though. I mean, he does it because he likes the limelight, and not for the pure, honest joy of causing mayhem and destruction. People like that, fame-chasers, they've got no business being criminals. Who else have we got here in Gotham? There's Catwoman, but she's only doing it to get Batsy's attention, and I guess in that way, we're kinda similar. Only difference is, Batsy's never asked me out for a date. Which is a bit hurtful, really, after all we've been through together. We always meet up to punch each other out – dinner and dancing would make a nice change. Probably best that we just remain friends, I guess. I wouldn't trust him to be able to keep his hands offa me. He can never keep his fists offa me as it is. Yeah, he's afraid of me, but danger's very attractive in a man, or so Harley tells me. And judging by all my fangirls out there, she's right.

Yeah, I got fangirls! You think Harley's the only dame who's ever dreamed of getting down with the clown? If I wasn't a committed-for-life kinda guy, I could be out there playing the field. I really am quite the catch, and the dames know it. Looks, brains, sense of humor, the whole package really. I'm the kinda guy women want, and men want to be. Well, just ask the other freaks in here. If they could trade places with anyone, it'd be me. And you know why? It's not just because I'm Batsy's most dangerous and iconic nemesis. It's because, when all is said and done, I'm probably the most perfect guy who ever lived.

Don't see it, huh? You must be blind as Batsy. They really should test the doctors here more rigorously before they let 'em analyze me – the last few have just been real disappointing so that I almost had a duty to kill 'em, to prevent their useless lives from cluttering up the earth. If I'm not perfect, pal, who is? See, people tell you nobody's perfect, but that's a lie, just like everybody's special in their own way. Most people ain't special at all. Most people just live useless, boring little lives of routine and misery. But there are a few special people out there, and probably a few perfect people out there, although I've really been the only one I've come across so far. And if I came across another one, I'd probably have to kill them, just to eliminate the competition.

But see, perfect isn't easy. It's a daily struggle to be the most handsome, talented, and funny guy out there. Granted, the competition isn't very fierce, so some days are easier than others. But like I said before, fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, and I gotta be perfect, because that's just who I am.

Ask Harley, if you don't believe me. Ask Batsy. He probably thinks he's pretty perfect too, but since I'm the only guy who's ever really hurt him, that means I'm more perfect than him. He's got a pretty good track record for saving people and stopping my schemes, but it ain't perfect, is it? And the guy who can beat the perfectionist, well, he's gotta be perfect, doesn't he?

See, what I got is standards. Sometimes I can't stand being locked up in here with these unfunny freaks and these pathetic doctors, because I really hate to associate with people with no sense of humor or style or talent. I hate to associate with inferior criminals, and that's what all these sad sacks are. So like I said, they're lucky I haven't killed them all yet, and there's no guarantee I won't one of these days, so it'll be just Batsy and me again, like it was in the old days.

Ah, the old days. There have been a few more of Batsy's sidekicks since then, y'know, to replace the ones I've killed. And a few more villains have come onto the scene too. Still nobody to challenge me, though. I mean, Hush? C'mon, a guy in a mummy mask don't scare anyone over the age of two! And y'know, Pyg's got the gruesome, but it takes more than gruesome to be iconic. I mean, I may have my moments, but what makes me the Joker is sense of humor, not just obscene, extreme acts of violence. It's the perfect balance of those two, the combination of insanity and hilarity that's made me endure for so long.

Times might change, but I'm still the king. And trust me, pal, that won't ever change. Life might be a wild and crazy ride, but even a madman knows his place in it. And this madman is king. And that's why he's always smiling and laughing, because who wouldn't be happy about that?

Yes sir, it's good to be the king.

 **The End**


End file.
